Here’s my ode to the pro wrestling of my childhood (OK, it’s really a study on identity but who’s analyzing!).
I saw an advertisement about an event with wrestling stars from the 80s, and I wondered how can they could still do it. They are at least my age. Recently, I hurt myself in my sleep. I’ve never been hit in the head by a metal folding chair but it is on my bucket list.
Call pro wrestling circus of the bizarre, freak show, extreme performance art, or choreographed sports-entertainment, but don’t call it fake.
Stop your eye-rolling if you enjoy only so-called legitimate sports from legitimate sources. Let’s not forget what the first letter of ESPN represents.
Now on with today’s entertainment:
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Abdullah announced to jeers
Madman from the Sudan
Parts Unknown enough for me
Larry Robert Shreve
To his Canadian family
Nobody named Larry sticks forks
In foreheads for a career
Ask Abdullah’s opponent
At the world’s first book festival wrestling match
(and maybe the last)
If those 46 stitches were fake
Sued for infecting wrestlers with hepatitis C
From sharing favorite fork or razor blade or barbed wire
Or soup can lid found in a trash can
Abdullah the Butcher is that real
If you still don’t believe in a non-fake life
Visit southwest Atlanta or Japan
At Abdullah the Butcher’s House of Ribs and Chinese Food
Taste for yourself
If Chinese food in Japan is fake
It’s real food for real people
At reasonably real prices
We are all from Parts Unknown
Identity crafted performance perfected
And as fake as faces scarred by foreign objects
While the ref’s back is turned
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